


Here Be Dragons (But No Terrible People)

by misura



Category: Hidden Legacy Series - Ilona Andrews
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-02-01 08:16:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Grandma Frida sighed. "Fine. Let me be blunt, then. Are you ugly?" She turned to Arabella. "Is he ugly? It's perfectly all right if he's ugly. I'm just curious."





	Here Be Dragons (But No Terrible People)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valkyrierising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/gifts).



> this pairing just sort of stuck with me and then suddenly fic happened.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this treat!

_If looks could kill ..._ Little use, Augustine judged, in pointing out that any number of Houses would have been delighted at having one of their young women bring home another Prime, who also happened to be the Head of a House of not inconsiderable power.

"Need I point out yet again that, contrary to your opinion, I am not a terrible person?" he asked.

"Well, given that you didn't exactly convince any of us the first time - "

"Grandma!" Arabella said. "I like him."

Grandma Frida sniffed. According to the team he'd put on her, she spent a considerable amount of her time on Herald, occasionally leaving snappy comments on fanfiction that blurred the lines between 'unrealistic, but theoretically possible provided the persons involved were to lose their minds' and 'clearly written by a deranged person with little grasp of either the English language or basic physics and/or anatomy'.

(Admittedly, it was _possible_ someone were to develop a sex-based power, but it was unlikely to show up in a Prime whose abilities had already been tested and recorded.)

"That's what you said about the last young man you brought home, and look where he is now."

_Safe and sound and still living where he lived before they started dating._

Augustine mustered a smile he usually reserved for difficult clients. "You flatter me, Mrs Baylor."

"Honestly, Arabella. Do you even know what he looks like when he's not cheating?"

In this company, being ignored should probably be counted as a win. While Augustine appreciated the theoretical value of people not paying attention to his presence, allowing him to observe them at his ease, in this particular instance, it felt more like a deliberate insult.

"Oh, like I'm in any position to throw stones when it comes to looks," Arabella said.

"Don't talk nonsense, you're beautiful," Grandma Frida said, at the same time Augustine said, "There's nothing wrong with the way you look." _That_ , at least, got him a glance and even something that might have been a small nod of approval.

Arabella looked rebellious. "Lina's way prettier than I am."

Grandma Frida's expression turned smug. "Catalina's genuinely in love with someone who's perfect for her. Any woman looks extra pretty when she's in love and knows herself to be loved in return. It's a scientific fact."

Augustine judged it the better part of wisdom not to comment. He'd consulted several studies on the psychology of people whose powers involved a greater or lesser degree of transformation. If any of his and Arabella's children were to inherit their mother's powers, they would need to be raised to think of their human shapes as their 'real' ones. Any lingering uncertainty on that point, any question of whether or not their transformed selves represented their 'true' selves, might easily lead to crippling mental problems later on in life.

Happily, for all their many faults and areas of ignorance, the Baylor family appeared to have managed to raise Arabella into a stable, sensible young woman.

"Catalina doesn't turn into a monster," Arabella said.

 _A stable,_ mostly _sensible young woman._ "The Beast is a manifestation of your magic. Its appearance is in direct service to its purpose, which is to defend and protect." That was almost a literal quote from one of the studies, but Augustine saw no need not to use a string of words simply because he hadn't come up with them himself.

"Also, to send the bad guys running for their mommy," said Grandma Frida, somewhat less than helpful.

No self-respecting House would be squeamish about the occasional need for violence, but cold-blooded, calculated bloodshed was generally favored over mindless brutality. The latter often involved the kind of collateral damage that made for bad publicity, and suggested a certain lack of self-control and efficiency.

"It's still ugly," Arabella said.

Augustine frowned. Acceptance was key: while the other shape must clearly be perceived as 'other', it must also be viewed as utilitarian, a means to an end. Transforming should be viewed in the same way as picking up a gun - _or appearing as an attractive man with glasses_.

"I assure you, that will not be the first adjective that occurs to anyone looking at you in your transformed state. 'Awe-inspiring' and, yes, 'scary', perhaps, but I have studied the footage extensively, and I can promise you that at no point did I ever think that you were ugly."

Arabella smiled at him and took his hand, as if _he_ was the one who'd needed reassurance. _Or rather, as if I were a trained animal, who's adequately performed the trick required of it._

Grandma Frida's eyes narrowed. "What footage would this be, exactly?"

_The footage one of my teams scrubbed from the internet, and will keep scrubbing from the internet for as long as House Montgomery judges it expedient the public at large and those Houses less resourceful than ours remains unaware of the full extent of Arabella Baylor's powers._

Augustine shrugged, relaxing a little now that he knew the previous discussion had been mostly for show. "For those willing to put in an effort, there's always some footage to be found. It's the age we live in, alas."

"Well." Grandma Frida frowned. "That's as it may be, but you still haven't answered my original question. It's all very well to walk around with a Greek god on your arm, but a girl needs a little more than that."

Arabella flushed.

Augustine made a mental note to gently suggest she let him create an illusion of her calm, unperturbed face during any social events they might be expected to attend together. _Yes, and then right after, I might suggest to Connor he take up gardening or embroidery for a hobby. Or stamp-collecting._

Knowing Connor, if he _were_ to take up any such nice, innocuous hobby, he'd find some way to make it competitive - and then to beat everyone else who was doing it.

Grandma Frida sighed. "Fine. Let me be blunt, then. Are you ugly?" She turned to Arabella. "Is he ugly? It's perfectly all right if he's ugly. I'm just curious."

"I dislike showing people how I look because I prefer them to see me as I wish to be seen," Augustine said, somewhat stiffly. When he'd grown up, appearing as a different person each night at the dinner table had been more or less a requirement. One more way to make him and his brother compete, to drive them to best each other and thereby improve their abilities.

Nowadays, their relationship was a bit friendlier, although at times, Augustine still felt that familiar urge to demonstrate that he was the better illusionist, the better man.

Grandma Frida snorted. "Must be nice to have that option."

"It is," said Augustine. He'd been drilled until it had become second nature to maintain an illusion until the point where he'd actually pass out - from pain or exhaustion or some other form of pressure.

Without that training, there was a good chance he would not have survived the days after becoming the head of House Montgomery. His parents hadn't been cruel; they'd loved him and had wanted to keep him safe, much like Arabella's family loved her and wanted to protect her.

_Different methods, true, but the emotional motivation is the same. We're still human, after all._

Some Houses forgot that, Augustine knew. They imagined that their motivations were different from that of ordinary people, that their thought processes were unique or special in some way. In his experience though, that was nothing but an illusion - and a rather poorly maintained one, at that.

Magical powers did not make a person less or more likely to cheat on their spouse, or take up an expensive hobby they preferred to hide from their friends and family, or become a criminal.

_And being the Head of House Montgomery isn't going to make me any more or less of a threat to this family than any other hopeful young man showing up in time for dinner._

He cleared his throat. "Still, I am no stranger to curiosity." You never knew when any piece of information might come in handy, after all. Like in the _Judicially Brunette_ movie, which Arabella had convinced him to watch with her, even though the overall plot had held little of interest.

Dropping an illusion took more of an effort than creating one. Not that much more of one, but Augustine still found it interesting. He felt that it should have been the other way around, that making something look different should be harder than restoring something to its original state.

"Huh," Grandma Frida said. "I was half-expecting fat and old."

 _No, you weren't. You would never have so little faith in your granddaughter's taste in selecting a partner._ Augustine smiled. This game, at least, was familiar enough. "It's much easier to create an illusion that's a close approximation of the truth, especially when one wishes to maintain it over a prolonged period of time."

" _Now_ can we eat?" Arabella asked. "I'm hungry!"

"I suppose your mother's about done," Grandma Frida said, rising. She grinned at Augustine. "Ready to face the rest of the family?"

_Has anyone ever answered that question with 'yes' without lying through their teeth?_

"I trust it goes without saying that I would take it poorly if any images were to be made public?"

"Don't you worry about that," Grandma Frida said. "We know good blackmail material when we see it. Just stay on our good side, and nobody needs to get hurt."

"Come _on_. He's nice, Grandma! You didn't kill him, so now you should be nice, too."

Augustine summoned another professional smile. It didn't feel as effective without an illusion to back it up.

The smells that were coming from the kitchen didn't help.

"Yay, pancakes!"

Grandma Frida grinned. "Sorry you showed up yet?"

_The things we do for love and the future of our Houses._


End file.
